Chapter 3 approaches Guru Nanak’s poetic artistry in “the language of infinite love – bhākhiā bhāo apāru” from seven angles: (1) the pluralistic medieval north-Indian linguistic context, (2) theophilial heteroglossia comprising infinite names of the singular truth, (3) anthropophilial commercial configurations (4) somatophilial signifiers of the formless One, (5) female-embodied theophilia, (6) biophilial worship (Arati, Samā’), (7) Kristeva’s materiality of language in the guru-bāṇī identity. The chapter explores how Guru Nanak’s images, symbols, paradoxes, metaphors, and allusions materialize the transcendent One. The message and the medium seamlessly coalesce to reveal the shared humanity usurped by age-old dualities, theological conflicts, and colonial mechanisms. The finale analyzes the guru-bāṇī (language) identity birthed by the founder Guru Nanak and embodied in the textual Guru (the GGS) – the sovereign presiding at all Sikh ceremonies and rites of passage, the sacrosanct body circulating with the flow of Sikh gurus, Hindu bhagats, and Muslim sufis.

The chapter explores the ways in which Clare’s sense of personal identity and selfhood is first created, and then fashioned and influenced, by the many differing pressures brought to bear upon it. Such pressures include poetic antecedents, social and economic conditions, literary associations and relationships, as well as the more personal features of an upbringing rooted in the natural world, which is authoritative and confirming, and an internal world, which is increasingly fragile and unstable. The chapter traces these evolutions – from the earliest verse that Clare wrote to the last poems of his asylum years.

As a result of French colonization, Haiti is a nation-state with a predominantly French-speaking written tradition. However, there is also a smaller body of Haitian texts written in Creole, dating back to the eighteenth century. Based on their linguistic and aesthetic characteristics, we can divide the corpus of Haitian Creole letters into two main chronological stages: the great period of emergence that stretches from colonial times to the middle of the twentieth century, and the period of emulation. The first period was dominated by texts of a mainly religious, administrative, and political nature. Written for the most part by high-ranking white settlers, these texts, using the local language, were intended for Creole-speaking slaves with a poor command of French. The second period, that of the autonomy of Creole letters or the beginnings of an authentic Creole literary tradition, began in the mid-twentieth century, in parallel with linguistic work to standardize the written code of the national language. This advance in the standardization of Creole led to a significant development of the language’s written code, particularly in the field of literature.

This chapter discusses Clare’s nature poetry, in the contexts of the politics of land use, then and now. It reads the verse against issues including the introduction of capitalist forms of agriculture and their effects, including the dispossession and pauperization of agricultural labourers and the degradation of ecosystems. It also considers the politics of language and memory in Clare’s poetry, in relation to changes in the agricultural economy.

Clare had the good fortune to be born into a period of excitement and experimentation in poetry. Ideas about poetry were changing, as were practices of reading and writing. This chapter examines how Clare participated in these changes. He helped to elevate the meditative lyric to the pinnacle of literary prestige by showing how everyday experiences yield pleasure and insight; by using forms with roots in oral and folk cultures, including popular song; and by modelling his poems on the music of nature and the structure of bird nests. He took part in contemporary experiments with form, language, and voice. His poems draw on the philosophical atmosphere of the Romantic age by offering readers opportunities carefully to observe Clare’s world and, by doing so, to come to know it.

The concluding chapter of this volume maps the contributions of the book as a whole, articulates possible future directions for further research, and offers a humanities lens to this conversation about youth mental health. Directions for further exploration include expanding the frame to encompass studies of affect and emotions (not just mental health), investigating the cultural politics of emotions (not just the importance of inner well-being) by situating emotions within political landscapes, enlarging the vocabulary of climate emotions (beyond the language of mental health), and queering climate emotions research.

This chapter analyzes the concept of distress and its application into climate matters. Distress emerges as a broad concept with many connotations. There are so many similarities between climate distress and climate anxiety as broad concepts that they may be used almost interchangeably, but when these phenomena are more carefully scrutinized, a wide vocabulary of various mental states and emotions is required. The history of the usage of climate distress is provided. The role of power dynamics in the usages is explored. Contextual factors are discussed, especially in relation to various cultures and languages. Related dynamics are explored via the example of discourses about climate distress in Finland and Sweden. It is argued that care is needed in analyzing the usage of concepts by various authors. The dual character of climate distress as both a potential mental health issue and fundamentally an adaptive reaction is highlighted.

The history of queer and trans Puerto Rican and Diasporican literature is complex. Its relationship to American literature is fraught with issues of colonialism and linguistic exclusion. Careful analysis of a wide-ranging corpus from the late 19th and early 20th centuries by Alejandro Tapia y Rivera (1882), José de Diego Padró (1924), and Pedro Caballero (1931), reveals a longstanding interest in queer and trans experience in works written in Spanish in Puerto Rico and New York. The massive social transformations of the 1960s and 1970s led to the explosion of critical voices such as those of Luis Rafael Sánchez, Manuel Ramos Otero, and Luz María Umpierre. Their pioneering texts, and the complex writing of Nuyorican authors in English, opened the way for late 1990s and early 2000s authors such as Ángel Lozada and Mayra Santos-Febres, for the eventual creation of collectives such as Homoerótica in 2009, and for the widespread acclaim of writers such as Luis Negrón, Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro, Justin Torres, and Raquel Salas Rivera. “Queerness,” as such, and its Spanish-language variant “cuir,” have been spaces of possibility for Boricua expression for more than one hundred forty years.

This chapter begins by arguing that debates about whether a poem can be translated reflect debates about the nature of the poem itself. Those who assert that poetry is untranslatable, for example, tend to believe that every poem is a unique event in a specific language. Conversely, those who assert the importance of translation tend to see poems as existing, and as having their meanings, only in relation to other poems or art forms. Considering examples from Roy Fisher, Friedrich Hölderlin, Vittorio Sereni, Jean-Joseph Rabéarivelo, César Vallejo, Donald Justice, Elizabeth Bishop, and Frank O’Hara, the chapter demonstrates that in practice, both these conceptual positions are essential. It explores how the practice of translation generates networks of mutually referential identities over time, and it suggests that, more broadly, the emergence of the abstraction known as “the poem” depends on its relation to such interconnections between poems, poets, and translations, ones that may be shaped by imitation, parody, homage, and adaptation.

This chapter examines the opposition between, on the one hand, an approach to diction as the index of broader poetic, historical, and social formations (e.g., genre, period, and class) and, on the other hand, an approach to diction as the expression of an individual poem's singularity, whereby the choice and the meaning of every word is specific to that poem. The chapter then considers two nineteenth-century examples, neither of which neatly fits this dichotomy: George Gordon Byron's Don Juan and Catherine Fanshawe's “Lord Byron's Enigma.” The first of these subversively amalgamates multiple, generally available vocabularies into its own idiosyncratic vernacular, while the second produces singular effects out of an entirely formulaic lyrical diction. The chapter thereby proposes that diction reveals in the individual poem a constitutive tension between singularity and exemplarity.